sho been good to me
My loved hoe handle, and my sweat,
heart pounding and the towhee singing.
Jill, jerking the hospital sheets,
“Damn careless nurses ...
“But golly ... a good life.
“That student who kept writing me.
“That rainy picnic by a road in Burgundy.
“Heart thumping, thumping on ... more, more....”
A squirrel on a post.
The nutgrooved skull
drops; he claws the dirt.
Frost thrown down,
a stiffened morning,
a harsh corrective herb
to gnaw, take in.
Sho been, Lord, Sho been
Whether born of kiss sublime,
victim’s terror, rapist crime, and
lammed open-eyed —
Lord, good...sho been
NOTES: This poem is part of a special section of Poetry magazine's May issue
Eleanor Ross Taylor, "Te Deum" from Captive Voices. Copyright © 2009 by Eleanor Ross Taylor. Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press.
Source: Poetry (May 2010).